Publisher: Mondadori
Year: 2010
Collection: Italian and foreign writers
Pages: 468
Binding: hardcover with jacket
Price: 20:00 €
ISBN: 978880454675
I was playing with the injury, so that when the Dark Lord occurred at home with this regaletto I said, very sincerely, "But you should not have." However, I am happy even if they give me a little drawing, because it is true that it's the thought that counts.
The injury was to be read something like The Fasciocomunista, bought after seeing the film that I had so much fun. Not that it's a zozzeria, but has absolutely no rhythm and vitality of the characters in the film that I have won and it was also to stand to read a work which won the Strega Prize, in the sense of loneliness even primes won me ...
Now, after reading, however, Mussolini Channel, I also understand why Pennacchi says that all his previous works were created and written just to get to it.
For myself I can say that, overall, the book is a good book. I love family sagas and here is a bevy of children, grandchildren, daughters and genres to be followed for almost 40 years of Italian history, especially a fascist. Of course, all are a bit 'in the distance, we can feel their warmth as a community, but almost never Pennacchi can send a single heat, the idea of \u200b\u200bindividuality. Even when they want to, I would say.
It is a shame. Because, as Indiana Nation, "Publishers are obsessed with the beautiful country - great Italian novel - [...] Perhaps yet to be born novelist to give us our The Tin Drum, or something like Midnight's Children. Meanwhile we are content with this Mussolini Canal. "And indeed, we are satisfied: as you go along with reading, but especially when we finish, we realize that the whole time we waited for something that never arrived. Plumes do not get there, at that point that allows the blessed work of art.
And not because the story is too full of flash-back to the dialect (as I read in many places, of course, always on the internet) or the tone grotesque in which recounts the tragedy of Italian history. Indeed, these I will I find the strengths, although I admit that could be exploited in a more skillful.
There goes so far as blessed because he can not bring all of history in history, can not make it go without pain, so clean. Not that we are forcing eh, but the digressions that verge on the didactic can not simply make us feel a tear.
To make you understand I mean, I'm not reading Memoirs of Hadrian, for example, there's that fluidity, that credibility (with all that Plumley is telling, in a nutshell, the story of his family) of a historical figure recounting his personal history has become, then, History. Got it?
shame, really.
Then, we want to talk about the title and cover? Terrible! Apart from the similarity of the guy pictured with the author.
Trivia:
official website of
The injury was to be read something like The Fasciocomunista, bought after seeing the film that I had so much fun. Not that it's a zozzeria, but has absolutely no rhythm and vitality of the characters in the film that I have won and it was also to stand to read a work which won the Strega Prize, in the sense of loneliness even primes won me ...
Now, after reading, however, Mussolini Channel, I also understand why Pennacchi says that all his previous works were created and written just to get to it.
For myself I can say that, overall, the book is a good book. I love family sagas and here is a bevy of children, grandchildren, daughters and genres to be followed for almost 40 years of Italian history, especially a fascist. Of course, all are a bit 'in the distance, we can feel their warmth as a community, but almost never Pennacchi can send a single heat, the idea of \u200b\u200bindividuality. Even when they want to, I would say.
It is a shame. Because, as Indiana Nation, "Publishers are obsessed with the beautiful country - great Italian novel - [...] Perhaps yet to be born novelist to give us our The Tin Drum, or something like Midnight's Children. Meanwhile we are content with this Mussolini Canal. "And indeed, we are satisfied: as you go along with reading, but especially when we finish, we realize that the whole time we waited for something that never arrived. Plumes do not get there, at that point that allows the blessed work of art.
And not because the story is too full of flash-back to the dialect (as I read in many places, of course, always on the internet) or the tone grotesque in which recounts the tragedy of Italian history. Indeed, these I will I find the strengths, although I admit that could be exploited in a more skillful.
There goes so far as blessed because he can not bring all of history in history, can not make it go without pain, so clean. Not that we are forcing eh, but the digressions that verge on the didactic can not simply make us feel a tear.
To make you understand I mean, I'm not reading Memoirs of Hadrian, for example, there's that fluidity, that credibility (with all that Plumley is telling, in a nutshell, the story of his family) of a historical figure recounting his personal history has become, then, History. Got it?
shame, really.
Then, we want to talk about the title and cover? Terrible! Apart from the similarity of the guy pictured with the author.
Trivia:
official website of
